Nineteen Seventy-Seven (1977)
by Trezzan
Summary: A story revolving around the year 1977, week by week, from different perspectives and with several different point of views. Mostly follows the marauders and others at Hogwarts but to some extent the dark side too. Ships: Jily.
1. Introduction

**A/N:** An introduction to an idea that flew into my head, nurtured a seed of thought, and came out into this.

Introduction

 _Generals gathered in their masses_

 _Just like witches at black masses_

 _Evil minds that plots destruction_

 _Sorcerer of deaths construction_

 _Politics_

When it all comes running down all that truly matters are _politics._

It makes people voice their troubles, makes people stand up for what they believe in, and turns people into fools. Makes people into puppets and pieces on a chessboard.

Politics is believing that your cause is the right cause to follow and thus applying it to every choice and every matter of your life.

There are some questions raised about the subject.

Who can say what type of politics that are appropriate and righteous? What makes ones cause the righteous cause after all? Saving a population? Saving a tradition? Is there truly a righteous path to tread? Perspective is the answer.

 _Politics_

There are two sides to a coin, equally many reasons for each side, but which one is truly the righteous?

He came one day. He was a salvation to some and devastation to others.

A patriot some would say but a hero nonetheless.

A ruthless leader of a cruel cause with malicious intentions some would say.

Salvation.

Devastation.

He was Voldemort.

The Dark Lord

He who must not be named

They were the magical population of wizarding Britain.

Scared some were.

Hopeful of his ascension some were.


	2. Prologue

1976 Christmas

Prologue

There hadn't been snow during Christmas evening, just a thick, impenetrable and heavy, fog, but as Lily woke and rose on Christmas day, the 25th, snow was falling in large flakes. She pulled a robe from the hanger on the door and wrapped it around her pyjamas-clad body and stood to watch the falling snow through the window. She figured that at least a inch, maybe two, had fallen already and slightly wondered if she had overslept breakfast. But her mother would surely have woken her. It was Christmas after all. With a sigh she brushed through her hair and quickly braided it down the left side. She was met by the smell of freshly baked bread, and warm cinnamon, as she opened the door out into the house and lightly headed down the stairs. Cascading down like the snow outside. Her father kissed her mothers cheek, as her mother was about to set the table. Petunia wasn't down yet or maybe she was in the living room. Lily didn't know. She strode into the kitchen and hugged her father as he had let go of her mother.

"Merry Christmas, dad." Lily said and received a beaming smile that Mr. Evans often presented his younger daughter.

"Merry Christmas little one," he replied. She let go off him and did the same for her mother. It was the only day when one should never allow oneself to be unhappy in Lilys opinion. Petunia entered the kitchen behind her and when Lily turned around she was fully dressed for the day. But Lily preferred to wear the cozy morning wear that she had dressed in. She was celebrating with her family after all.

"Tuney," Lily said happily and walked, although hesitantly, to hug her sister who stepped aside as the red haired girl came too close.

"Merry Christmas." Petunia had said but didn't move to hug her. Instead she kissed her father on the cheek as she passed which he replied with a squeeze on her shoulder. Petunia leaned on her mothers shoulder and kissed her cheek too.

"Do you need help with anything, mother?" asked Petunia.

"No, thank you dear." She affirmed her eldest daughter with a happy smile.

"You two should go find out if _anyone_ has left anything for you by the mantle," their father said mysteriously and while Lily, filled with the spirits of holiday, brightened significantly her sister just smiled tightly at the comment and walked into the living room through the open space between the kitchen and the large soft, yellow, room.

Lily went after her but said nothing to her. When Petunia carefully took the sock with her name on it from the mantle Lily remembered something. A Christmas morning when Petunia didn't quite loathe her so much as she did now.

 _Petunia looked carefully at her younger sister, having returned from the first term of a magical school only a few days ago, and Lily noticed this as she removed her sock from the mantle._

" _What is it Petunia, did you put something in here?" Lily wondered cheerily._

" _It's nothing. Silly actually…"_

" _You can tell me anything." Lily promised_

" _Is there a Santaclaus, Lily?" She asked and elaborated. "Since you go to that place… You ought to know, right?"_

 _Lily carefully thought about the question. A few boys in her year had laughed about the fact that muggles believed in a great white-haired man that flew through the sky and delivered gifts to children all over the world._

" _No," she said without trying to be funny because Petunia never asked anything about her magical life or about the school of witchcraft and wizardry._

 _Petunia smiled, a faint one, and nodded. A bit disappointed of the news perhaps but not surprised._

" _But they do celebrate Christmas. Before I left I saw an enormous Christmas tree being decorated by our charms teacher, he's a really short man. The tree is decorated with these beautiful globes in gold and silver with ribbons of all the house colours…" Lily was silenced by the sharp look that her sister sent her way. She hadn't noticed the change of expression in Petunias face._

" _I wasn't asking Lily. I don't want to hear about it." She frowned._

" _But it's my life."_

" _It's not mine. I don't want to hear of your freak school."_

Lily looked at Petunia searchingly but she gave no hints that she would meet her eye.

Instead Lily asked: "Did you get anything nice for Christmas?"

"Bracelet." She said briskly. "You?"

Lily wasn't expecting she ask back.

"Necklace. It's lovely." Lily showed it, spread out in the palm of her hand, and Petunia cast a quick look before she returned the gesture by showing the bracelet she had been gifted. It sat around her wrist already and hung beautifully down onto her well-manicured hand.

"Beautiful, Tuney."

"Merry Christmas," she sighed and walked into the kitchen again.

"Do you need help with that, mom?" He asked and moved her chair so that he sat closer to his mother's plate. She was able to hold the fork on her own but not the knife. The table was decorated with little Santa's helpers and reindeers with red mules. The table cloth was a mostly white with red edges and mistletoe in every corner. They had lit all the candles since it was Christmas.

"Yes, thank you." She replied and carefully, but with a bit of difficulty, held the knife for her son to take. They helped each other cut the dish that his father had cooked before he had gone away for work.

When Remus returned to his own plate it was cold but it didn't bother him. His mother had always cared so much for him; he could do nothing but return the favour out of pure respect and admiration for the woman at the end of the table.

"Did you like it? Dad's a fantastic cook." Remus asked and cut a piece of potatoes that he chewed on easily. It was cold now but delicious.

His mother nodded and sipped a glass of milk with the hand that still had enough strength in it. "It was a delight."

Remus was a bit troubled for her sake but mostly he felt sick with the idea that she was so sick. He wondered what Peter was up to, or James and Sirius. Whether or not Sirius felt joyful about the holidays now that he had moved in at the Potters. He wondered what they had gotten for presents. He wore his present, of course, and like it every much just like he did every year. It was a warm knitted sweater, scarlet red with gold sleeves, and matching socks. Hope, his mother, had been better at knitting when he was younger and he had been more uncomfortable in them then. Now they were strangely enough warmer and lovelier than back then but his mother hadn't improved her knitting. It had gotten worse to be honest. He hadn't been uncomfortable in them because how they felt but how other people looked at him when he wore it with pride. His friends had not, of course, and had even stood up for him. Now they all casually wore wool sweaters after the holidays. Peters mother had started to knit for him. Sirius had knit his himself, and was actually not half-bad at it, whilst James, just like Remus, had always been forced into a sweater. He hadn't worn it before he had seen the pride that eleven-year old Remus had shown that second term in first year but he never missed out on a chance after that moment. Any chilly day or evening in the Gryffindor-tower meant that they, yes all of them, would be wearing sweaters.

"Remus, would you please help me clean this off?" his mother brought him back to the present and he nodded and sent a sweet smile her way. "I think I'm going to go rest for a while. Be a good boy, dear."

"Of course, mom. I might take a walk later if you're wondering where I am."

She ran a hand through his hair when she walked away and he smiled sadly, now that she wouldn't see. He felt very alone here. His father was not a cruel man and he had times when he was nice but he was never at home so they never got the chance to bond. He felt as if his father feared him from time to time and that he avoided him for being who he was. He wondered what would happen when his mother, passed away. He couldn't deny the fact that she would. The salty tears pushed through his eyes. He knew she would.

But not before he would accept the fact in his heart.

Not before he had grown aware of the fact.

Some people love us from afar, Remus thought.

James had trouble hearing his own thoughts. Sirius was playing with his cards, trying to make them join into new numbers, to which they were very dissatisfied. Scrapcard he called it and James thought that it was ridiculous. James on the other hand played snap cards. Which was an annoyance sent from hell itself, according to Sirius. None of it mattered because the self-playing piano in the Potter living room never stopped playing jingle bells and James mother and father were turning the kitchen upside down with their cooking. There had not been a single quiet moment during Christmas day in the Potter house.

"James. Why won't you just help me out instead of playing the already perfected game." Sirius groaned and James just rolled his eyes.

"Padfood, seriously. You will not become a galleonaire from inventing a new card game."

"Did you just call me food? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm hungry deer."

Sirius lost it. His grin went all the way back to his ears and his eyes tinkled like stars on the nightsky. But then he stopped. "You can't eat me! You're a vegan!"

"No! I'm the blood-thirsty deer and I want to taste your flesh!" James hauled over onto Sirius who yelped in what some would call panic, but what Remus would call Sirius 'attack call'.  
"You're destroying my cards!" he screamed and James laughed maniacally.

"I'm going to eat you!"

None of them saw the door open or mother Potter look into the room. She had never seen such a sight, oh but then again, she had, of the boys. Messy hair, glasses half-broken, and clutter over the entire floor. Sirius kicks hadn't helped and there were butterbeer and pumpkin juice all over the place. Not to mention the Santa Cauldrons that somehow had ended up on the ceiling, one falling down just as Sirius noticed James's mother. James however had not, and tackled him again before noticing his mother.

"Boys, you will always be my little boys." She snickered. "I expect you to clean this up after dinner. And to clean yourselves up before dinner."

They both sat up with knees crossed and back straight and nodded in unison. "Yes mom."

"Thirty minutes left until dinner." They both nodded again until she mentioned something about presents that they were allowed to open before dinner. "But not before you tidy yourself up!"

They nodded again.

Mrs Potter had had enough raising James Potter. Now he had gotten a twin brother and she noticed new grey hairs in her black mess every time she passed the mirror. But then again her eyes glimmered with more happiness with each time as well so she couldn't complain. She hadn't even had the time to find herself back in the kitchen before being overrun by James and Sirius who almost skied into the great Christmas tree. Like five-year olds they tugged at each other's presents and eventually gave one another the right package. Sirius was so deeply grateful and happy over the fact that Mrs Potter took such good care of him. He had never expected to get a Christmas present nor the kindness that she showed him again and again.

"Oh mom! I never would've guessed what this was!"

"Stop it prongs, we both know it's just an enchanted outside and that its really mine." Sirius snickered and pulled the broom-shaped package from his best friend.

"No! Its mine!"

"Mine!"

"Boys!"

"Fine!"

James got his package back and Sirius went back to open his with a gleeful smile. When the parcels were off and the lid had slid off he was so very surprised. No one had given any thoughts to any gift he had ever gotten. Apart from his own friends of course. But this. This was amazing. He quickly pulled it out and snapped a picture of James who was watching him intently with his half-opened broom-package that he couldn't bother to fully open. Watching Sirius happy was far more satisfying.

"You like it?"

Sirius jumped at James and James quickly pushed aside his broom so it wouldn't break. "I like it? I love it! Thank you, James. You're the best mate one can have."  
"Don't forget to thank mom and dad."

"Mrs and Mr Potter! I offer my sincerest thank you in regards of my present. It will be treated well and used generously!" They stood together just behind the couch with the kitchen behind them. Just like on the picture that Sirius had snapped of them in that exact moment. It would always be remembered.

And Sirius would snap many shots with his camera.

When James kissed Lily.

When Remus got stranded atop the Gryffindor tower.

When Lily kissed James.

But it would take time. Just like all things well worth remembering, or photographing for that matter, takes time.

One year from now he and Jessica would go through the pictures.

She would laugh at him for making her photograph him an entire afternoon in the rain on his new motorcycle and he would roll his eyes. We never did get a good picture, he would say.

But before that they had to become friends.

Who was Jessica, anyway?

Her steps echoed, as she walked through the mansion, and her breath was cold when she exhaled. It was dark but she was trying to light candles to make it feel more like Christmas. The high dark walls, painted black, didn't help. Nor did the overcasting shadows from the windows. Outside it was dark. Dark, dark, dark. And there were children playing. Their joyful chorus never truly reaching Jessica. Tossing snowballs at each other and not having to worry about anything at all. Neither did Jessica of course, she didn't have to experience anything. She wished that she would've had some decorations at least. But her mother thought of it as filthy muggle nonsense. She had received a letter from Lily just before the darkness had crept over the world and was heading into the only warm room in the house. The ever-burning fire in the fireplace gave her a somewhat cozy feeling. It wasn't much but at least there were liquor and chocolate there. She loathed chocolate because her mother had always given it to her in… What some would call, questionable moments. It was tradition amongst purebloods. Chocolate for forgiveness after punishment. It absolutely repulsed Jessica. She fell onto the icy cold, even though the room was warm, leather couch with dragon ornaments and shivered as she opened her, in comparison to the room, very white letter.

 _Jessica!_

 _I hope you're having a nice Christmas holiday. I know that you aren't treated the very best so this is my attempt to cheering you up. I have a present for you, when we meet on the platform, and I think you're going to like it a lot. It's a muggle item but don't let that scare you off! My Christmas morning has been quite well. We're going to my grandparents tonight but Tuney is so cold towards me that I can't really even attempt to appreciate the times spent at home. She didn't completely ignore me this morning, though, so that's progress I guess._

 _I also wanted to tell you that I'm so afraid. When I see my family and knowing that they don't have a clue what's going on in our world I just want to scream and tell them all about the absolute horrors that are happening. They read about it of course, but they don't understand the extent… Let's talk when we get back to school. Sending hugs and warm love. I hope you don't feel too alone and if you do – I'm thinking of you._

She tuned into the radio and tucked the letter inside of her knitter, close to her heart, so that she wouldn't feel the loneliness Lily had written about. She wanted to write a reply but she couldn't muster up the courage. What if mother found out?

The radio cracked. Spat out words the horrified Jessica.

" _Tonight the ministry has been shut down after gruesome finds. Seventeen muggles dead and scattered around the common area. Five hanging in the air, seven hovering, three splattered across the walls and two mutilated to write the words 'purity over all'. Auror deputy Herman Selwyn does not wish to discuss this event. Bartemius Crouch is unavailable for comments, says the evening prophet..."_ She shut it off, fast.

Jessica wanted to scream. But there was something blocking the passage in her throat. She wondered if Lily had heard the news. If she was even more scared now. She wanted to tell her friend that it would get better. That hate could never be more than love.

A pop scared her to the bone and she swallowed every feeling she had felt. The double doors into the room opened and a vivid blonde man swung black robes around his entire being. She never noticed the blood around the edges of the robe. She wished that she had.

She wished for many things that never had happened.

"Ah, Jessica. Glad to see you. Have you seen Charles?"

"Lucius. A pleasure as always. He's not been here, no. They are away at the place I don't know about. Surely you know."

He nodded firmly and reassuring. "Indeed I know."

"Care for a drink?" She asks when he doesn't leave right away. He nods.

"Of course, anything old and fiery is my thing. Are you having a nice Christmas?"

"Oh yes", she replied and started to pour fiery liquid into glasses elegantly. "My Christmas is amazing." He noticed her forced words but as always never cared to comment them. She was happy however, she wasn't being slammed into a wall or kicked down a flight of stairs, for once.

"So what are you doing, Jessica?"

"Just contemplating what to do with my life and such." She handed him the liquor. He sipped it carefully. Apparently deciding to stay for a while.

"Have you thought about the war?" He asked.

"Of course. Every waking hour. But I don't want to think about it. I'm sorry."

She almost expected him to be angry and lash out at her. "Don't worry. You will understand eventually. You're still so young. Charles will talk to you about it and you will surely join our cause without hesitation. Just study for now, and learn everything that will be needed for service."

She did understand. She loathed them. Lucius Malfoy. Her mother. Not her brother. Charles was nice to her. He just had difficulties disobeying their mother. And so would Jessica.

But she didn't know just how hard it would be to choose the right side.

Not just yet.

But she would know. And she did know what the right side was. She just didn't know how to walk down that path.

Not just yet.

But she would know.

War did that to people. War confused people. It's not black and white. It's a greyscale with too many layers for proper comprehension. Jessica had grown up hearing the phrase, 'winners write history'. Her real issue was choosing whether or not she cared what winner wrote history.  
She would care.


End file.
